


Kiss It Better?

by 11_RedQueen_04



Series: Some F.A.C.E. Family Goodness [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bad Cooking, Child!America, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Minor Injuries, daddy england
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11_RedQueen_04/pseuds/11_RedQueen_04
Summary: A normal day at the park turns somber for little Alfred. Luckily for him, Daddy Arthur will always be there to lend him a hand.Human AU
Relationships: America & Canada & England & France (Hetalia), America & England (Hetalia), Implied England/France - Relationship
Series: Some F.A.C.E. Family Goodness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768261
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	Kiss It Better?

"Look at the birdies, Daddy! They're so pretty!"

Arthur looks up from his reading, instantly smiling when his eyes find his baby chasing after a flock of birds.

"Can we take one home, Daddy? Can we? Can we?" Alfred stops to grin charmingly at his dad, the missing front tooth making him look impossibly adorable. "Please?" He drags out the first syllable of the word.

Arthur chuckles and closes his book. "Of course not, Poppet." He gives a light shake of his head.

Alfred scrunches up his nose and his lower lip wobbles. He let's out a quiet sniffle.

"Oh, don't cry, Poppet. This is their home, they like it here. Would you like it if someone took you from your home?" Arthur smiles at Alfred's little shake of his head and the scuffing of his feet.

"Can I at least play with them?" His child asks, resigned.

Arthur nods and resumes his reading, discreetly observing the ladies that have been making gooey eyes at him and Alfred since they entered the park.

One of them crosses her legs and leans back against the bench, pushing her chest out suggestively.

The Englishman mentally snickers, if only they knew he is probably the gayest man on Earth. Well, aside from Francis, that is. Arthur places his left hand over the armrest of the bench, exposing his wedding ring.

It doesn't faze them, however. They continue to giggle and whisper quietly in his direction, blushing when he turns their way.

Alfred's giggles draw his attention back. He's running in between the wet patches of grass now, the birds fluttering around him as he reaches out his tiny hands to catch them.

Arthur smirks. "Try not to get into the mud too much. Papa is doing the laundry this weekend, he won't like it if you dirty your white jumper again." Screw the jumper, he hates the infernal thing anyway. How Francis is able to submit their sons through the torture of wearing such horrific items and sleep with a clean conscience is beyond Arthur.

Alfred pouts at him. "This is the only one left, Daddy. If I ruin it then I don't have to wear one anymore." He gives his daddy a look, like his intentions should've been obvious.

Arthur laughs. "Oh, Lamb. Francis will just buy you another one." _'And probably make me sleep on the couch for letting you ruin it.'_ He thinks with a grumble.

"But they're ugly, Daddy! I hate them! And Mattie does too." Alfred crosses him arms and curls his lip. His anger looking more cute than threatening.

Arthur shakes his head again. "Just keep playing, Alfred." He says with a smile.

Alfred doesn't need to be told twice, he zooms past the birds, arms outstretched as he giggles loudly. He makes a few airplane noises with his mouth as runs past the birds again, the wind knocking his wild mane back.

He turns to his book again, expecting to be left alone by the ladies. Only now they're winking and biting their lips at him! Arthur growls. What did he need to do? Hang a sign on his neck saying he isn't interested -or straight-? Call Francis to give him a good smooch in front of all of them? Or maybe just walk up to them and-

A familiar cry of pain has him running as fast his legs can carry him towards his son, book and women forgotten. Alfred is kneeling on a patch of jagged rocks, his breathing uneven as he tries and fails to stand up. His big blue eyes fill with tears as he looks up at his dad, arms outstretched.

Arthur kneels beside him and his chest tightens at the sight of Alfred's knees, which are scrapped bloody. His little hands did not go by unscathed either, the Englishman notes.

"D-daddy!" The toddler sniffles, launching himself into his father's arms. He curls into Arthur's chest, his face snuggling the juncture where shoulder meets neck.

Arthur rubs comforting circles on his son's back, quietly cooing at him to distract him from the pain.

 _'If I could take your pain away, Lamb, I would do it in a heartbeat. My beautiful son, don't cry. Daddy's here now.'_ He nuzzles Alfred's little shoulder as he stands, carefully balancing his sobbing son in his arms.

"Shh, Lamb. Everything is going to be alright now. It's just a scrape, you'll be alright." He whispers, pressing a kiss to Alfred's head.

"I-it hurts Daddy!" Alfred wails. "It hurts so much, make it go away. Please make it go away!" The toddler dives deeper into his dad's shirt, his little fists trembling as he clutches Arthur's chest.

"Let's go put on a plaster on it." The man hurries to his car, ignoring the peering eyes of the women.

Arthur settles Alfred on the front seat, careful not to jostle his injured limbs. "Wait here, Lamb. I'll just fetch the first aid kit from the car boot." He ruffles the ailing boy's hair and then kisses his temple.

Arthur returns less than a minute later, rapidly pulling the kit open. He sits alongside his son, grimacing at the awkward angle they find themselves in. He dabs the cotton ball into the water and grabs Alfred's knee with his other hand.

Alfred flinches, trying to remove himself from Arthur's grip.

"This won't hurt, I'm just going to clean it."

Alfred whimpers as he looks up at him, blinking away the tears from his big, blue eyes.

Arthur presses the cotton gently against the injury, brushing the blood away. "See? No pain." He smiles.

Alfred relaxes into his father's grip and nods up at him, offering him a wavering smile that still does not reach his eyes.

Arthur cleans each knee and hand diligently, never pressing too hard. He then takes out the hydrogen peroxide and wets a new cotton ball. "This might sting a bit." He gives his son a grim smile.

Alfred whimpers but nods at him nonetheless, putting on a brave face. "I'm a hero, Daddy. I can take it!" His smaller hand finds Arthur's bigger, unoccupied one. Alfred grasps his father's forefinger, just as he's always done since his birth. His way of discreetly seeking comfort from his father.

Arthur presses the cotton ball to Alfred's knees and hands, his heart hurting when his baby hisses in pain. He finishes up as quickly as he can and then puts superhero themed band aids over the scrapes.

"Daddy?" Alfred mumbles, from where he had buried his head into Arthur's chest.

"Hm?" Arthur smiles into Alfred's hair.

"Kiss it better?" He cranes up his head to peer at Arthur, blue eyes inquisitive.

Arthur's smile widens. He bends down to press a kiss to each knee and the palms of both hands. The Englishman then kisses Alfred's nose and both his eyes, ruffling his son's unruly hair at the end. He scoops up the younger blond into his arms, tickling him under the armpits.

"Daddy!" Alfred laughs. "Th-that's not fair!" He tries mimicking his daddy's famous scowl but fails miserably.

"Is that so?" Arthur grins wickedly, his tone nonchalant.

"Yeah." Alfred manages in between giggles. "You're bigger than me!" The child exclaims, wiggling like a worm. He aims for his father's neck, trying to retaliate.

"Oh, the pain! The agony!" Arthur shouts, placing an arm over his eyes dramatically. "I've been defeated. Whatever shall I do now?!" He pretends to shed a few tears.

"Oh, Daddy." Alfred giggles, all pain forgotten. "I love you." He says, his cheeks still red and puffy from all the laughter.

"I love you too, Poppet." He buckles Alfred on his car seat and tickles Alfred's neck again.

Alfred squirms, letting a few chuckles escape. "Can we eat fish and chips when get home?"

Arthur frowns. "Really?" He asks as he buckles his own seatbelt. He isn't exactly the best cook -according to Francis- and even though he himself denies it, he knows it too.

"Yeah! I love your cooking, Daddy." Alfred exclaims, kicking the front seat in excitement. "I'm gonna have you cook me fish and chips until you're a senile and decrepit old man that's ready for the grave!" Alfred says, throwing his arms up.

Arthur winces. "Let's not take it that far." He mumbles, though he can't help but feel smugness bloom in his chest. _'Take that, Frog!'_

Alfred just laughs at him. "Okay, Daddy."

Some traffic lights later, Arthur frowns at Alfred from the rearview mirror. "By the way," he begins. "Where did you learn those words?"

______________  
 _~The End~_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Aww, poor Alfred. *gives him a candy* Here ya go, little tyke. 
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos behind. I would love to hear your thoughts.


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